The Merry Monarch's Wife qoe-9

by Виктория Холт

  Charles joked about the Portuguese costumes which my ladies had brought with them.

  “It is fortunate that the ladies of England do not follow the same fashions. If they did, there would not be enough carts in England to carry them and their belongings from place to place.”

  It was about four days after our wedding when we left for Hampton Court.

  What a welcome we received there! There were two reasons for rejoicing. It was the twenty-ninth of May, the King’s thirty-second birthday, and the second anniversary of his restoration to the throne. The English loved excuses for holidays and pageants and making merry. Moreover, Charles told me, they were also celebrating his marriage and my arrival in England.

  “So you see, my love, there is ample reason for rejoicing.”

  There were bonfires all along the route. People lined the roads to see the King and Queen. They shouted loyal greetings and threw garlands at us. We smiled and waved as we passed along.

  They seemed pleased to see me. I had learned to recognize the shouts of “God save the Queen.” Charles was always delighted by their recognition of me.

  And thus we came to Hampton.

  It has always been one of my favorite palaces. To me now it is the one place where I was most happy, where I had spent those magical days…childlike in my innocence. How happy I could have been if I had never lost that innocence! But one cannot go blindfold through life.

  When we arrived at the palace, the guards were waiting to greet us. How I wished that we could have come there alone and have entered the palace without ceremony, but we had to pass through the lines of soldiery, followed by our retinue, and there must be presentations and kissing of hands. As the new Queen, there were important people whom I had to receive. It was so difficult because of the language. I could only nod and smile, for I was not at that stage ready to attempt those few words which Charles had taught me.

  Hoy joyous that homecoming could have been if only we were alone!

  * * *

  MY MEMORIES OF THOSE DAYS at Hampton Court will remain with me forever. I was perfectly happy during them, or almost, the only flaw being that we were so rarely alone. But to be otherwise would be asking too much. Charles was, after all, the King and I the new Queen; and it was our duty to receive the many people who were eager to see us.

  There were morning levees at which Charles must present the leading people of the court to me; and it seemed there was always some ceremony to perform. He would smile at me apologetically during these sessions, because I believed he too was wishing that we could be alone; and happily I would return his look with understanding.

  It was only at night that we were free.

  There was continual revelry. The Portuguese court had been much more formal. The English flung themselves into pleasure with an abandonment which at first astonished me. Then I reminded myself that they had only just escaped from Puritan rule, so perhaps in time they would grow a little more restrained.

  There were banquets and balls, pageants on the river; plays were performed and there was much dancing. Charles was always at the center of these. He was noted for his wit and was as addicted to pleasure, light-hearted banter and laughter as the rest. He danced most gracefully, and I always applauded him loudly, and during those halcyon days he always looked at me and acknowledged my approval. It was deeply touching, and I was more in love every day.

  There were minor disappointments.

  For instance, on the first day after our arrival, I was preparing to go down to the levee where certain ladies were to be presented to me. Six of my ladies-in-waiting came with me, dressed in the costumes of our country. Their hair was frizzed to resemble a periwig, and in their farthingales — I now noticed — they walked awkwardly.

  Donna Maria looked at them with approval.

  She said to me: “They look like ladies. I declare the loose fashions of the English shock me. Indeed, they shock me deeply. I tremble to think what your mother would say if she saw you in these unholy English fashions. Come, let us dress you as a Portuguese queen should be dressed. Let us give you back your dignity.”

  I wondered, after, that I allowed it. It was due to the mention of my mother, perhaps. I knew that she would not have approved of the English customs.

  So I relented and sat there meekly while they dressed me. They called in the hairdresser, whom we had brought with us from Portugal and whose services I had not yet used because Charles had so admired my hair that I had worn it loosely dressed most of the time.

  So I went down to the reception with my attendants, in the costume of my native land.

  There was a brief silence, which was eloquent enough. I saw one or two of the ladies put their hands to their mouths, as though holding in their laughter.

  Charles was looking at me. For a few seconds I saw his expression of bewildered amazement. Was it horror? Or dismay? I glanced at the ladies. The somber colors made their skins look darker. Or did they seem so against the English skins, which for the most part were fair?

  Charles took my hand. He was then smiling as blandly as ever.

  I received the ladies, but I knew my appearance was causing a certain amount of amusement.

  When the company had gone I said to Charles: “I think some of the company were surprised to see me in the fashion of my country.”

  “I think they were indeed,” he replied.

  “And you?”

  “I must confess I was a little taken aback.”

  “I think they were laughing at me. Were you?”

  “I think you look enchanting, no matter what fashion you adopt.” He smiled and added: “Even the Portuguese.”

  Then he laughed and I could not help laughing with him.

  He touched my hair. “It is so beautiful,” he said. “It is a pity to treat it so.”

  I said: “It is the fashion.”

  “I know it is the command of the dragons. Is that so? The fierce Donna Maria, the stern Donna Elvira?”

  I nodded.

  “They are good souls,” he said. “They love you well and I love them for that. But they are not, I dare to say, the arbiters of fashion. Here we follow the French…and the French, as you know, have an understanding of these matters. I myself am half French, so I should know.”

  He pulled at my hair and released it from the pins. “Ah, now you look more like my fair Catherine. You are beautiful, and nothing can change that…not even…”

  “My hideous costume?”

  “I was going to say the ministrations of your hairdresser.”

  “I am not beautiful,” I cried. “I am too small. Oh, how I wish I could grow a few more inches. You are so tall, and most of the ladies stand higher than I do.”

  “Nay,” he said tenderly. “I would not have you otherwise. You are delicate and tiny…and that makes you doubly precious.”

  I said: “I shall not wear this costume again. I shall dress in the English fashion.”

  “I think you will find it more comfortable. It suits you well. You have such a pretty neck and shoulders. It is a sin to conceal them.”

  “You will make me vain. I am not beautiful.” I added: “There are so many beautiful women at your court.”

  “In my eyes…none so as my Queen.”

  “I cannot believe you really mean that.”

  “My dearest, I swear I speak the truth.”

  “Look at my teeth.”

  “Delightful.”

  “They stand out.”

  “Of course they do. They are so pretty, they insist on showing themselves, and quite rightly.”

  “You are so comforting to me.”

  “From now on its is my mission in life to comfort you.”

  “I shall change my costume now.”

  “With my help.”

  “I think perhaps Lady Suffolk would be more proficient at the task.”

  “You disappoint me,” he said in mock dismay.

  That was typical of him, but I was determined not to let Maria a
nd Elvira persuade me to wear the Portuguese costumes again, for I believe he thought them as hideous as the others did.

  * * *

  AMONG THE PEOPLE WHO were presented to me soon after my arrival at Hampton Court was my sister-in-law Anne Hyde, Duchess of York, wife of James, who had treated me so courteously on my arrival.

  I had asked Charles about her when I knew I was to meet her.

  “Ah, the Lady Anne,” he had said. “Thereby hangs a tale. She is the daughter of my Chancellor Clarendon. You have already met that stern gentleman. He is a clever fellow and his daughter takes after him. I am fond of Anne. But I must tell you that her entry into our family was not easy for her, poor girl. My mother was fiercely against it, and my mother, as you will no doubt one day discover, can be a very formidable lady. She will love you though, for she is of your faith…most fervently so, and that will be a bond between you two. As for Anne…well, it was not easy for her.”

  “Tell me about her. It is good to know something of people before one meets them.”

  “It was during my wandering days. Anne was lady-in-waiting to my sister of Orange, who was very good to us. I have been blessed in my family. She gave us shelter at her court and it was there that my brother became enamored of Anne.”

  “And she became Duchess of York.”

  “She might so easily not have done so…in spite of the fact that she should have been.” He smiled wryly and looked at me in an amused fashion.

  I said: “Why do you smile at me?”

  “I smile because you are so sweetly innocent and I am the luckiest man in the world. I was wondering if you will be just a little bit shocked by the story of my brother James and his wife. Please don’t be. Don’t judge them harshly — neither James nor Anne — because I am devilishly fond of them both.”

  “That is natural. They are your brother and sister.”

  “James is a young man who is very fond of the ladies. And it is only natural that the ladies like him. He is a little gauche at times, but he is the brother of the King and the Duke of York — titles which are not without their charm. He fell in love with Anne and she with him, which was delightful, but sometimes there are…results.”

  He paused and studied me with mock concern.

  “You mean…” I stammered, “there was a child?”

  He opened his eyes wide and nodded.

  “How…?” I began.

  “Shocking, yes,” he said. “Well, James married her.”

  “Oh, I am glad of that.”

  “It was thought to be something of a mésalliance, and you know how fierce some people can be about such matters.”

  “You were kind to them, I know.”

  “But of course, I understood. Not so Anne’s father, Clarendon. He was enraged…or pretended to be. He ranted against the poor girl. Poor Anne, she had a trying time.”

  “I suppose he was very shocked.”

  “I think my Lord Chancellor protested too much. At heart he could not really be displeased to see his daughter marry into the royal family.”

  “And…the baby?”

  “It was born close on the marriage.”

  “How dreadful for them!”

  “But they were safely married. And the baby died.”

  “That was tragic.”

  “Anne has just given birth again — a girl this time. It was not many weeks ago. They will have more. Anne is a shrewd and clever girl. She may give herself airs, as people sometimes do when they are elevated beyond their expectations. Forget that. You could find a good friend in Anne Hyde. She is good for James. She holds him in check. James can be foolhardy at times. So I believe this to be a good match on the whole.”

  When I met her, I could believe this. She was by no means as handsome as some of the court ladies, but it was impossible not to be aware of her intelligence. She spoke Spanish, so we were able to talk together, and I told her of my desire to learn English as soon as possible.

  I asked her about her child.

  “A little girl,” she replied. “She is called Mary. There was the usual disappointment because she was not a boy. She seems strong enough. She is beautiful and lively.”

  “She must make you very happy,” I said, and I wondered when I should have a child. Perhaps already…

  I could see from her shrewd eyes that she followed my thoughts. She said: “It is a great consolation for everything.”

  She was looking at me intently, as though there was some meaning behind her words.

  I said: “The Duke was very kind to me when I arrived. I was feeling very uneasy and bewildered, as you can guess.”

  “Oh yes,” she replied. “I am glad you found him helpful. He is like the King, his brother, in some ways.”

  Again that significant look.

  “They are not much alike in appearance,” I said.

  “Oh, the King has a style of his own.”

  I nodded, smiling.

  “I hope you are going to be very happy here,” she went on earnestly.

  “Everyone has been so kind, and the King…he is very good to me.”

  “He has great charm,” she said.

  “And the people are so delighted that he has come back.”

  “That’s true. And no one in the country is more delighted than he is himself.”

  “He has told me more than once that this is so. You must have known the King before he was restored to the throne, when he was wandering on the continent.”

  “Yes, I did. He was often at his sister’s court. He was very fond of her and she of him. They are a very devoted family.”

  “The King has told me that, too.”

  “There was great sadness when the Princess of Orange died, and in the same year his brother the Duke of Gloucester died. What a year that was! A year of tragedy and hope…and death…then the King’s restoration to the throne. His favorite sister Henrietta was also near to death. Praise God, she recovered to marry the brother of the King of France. Of all the family, the King loved her the best, so he was spared that grief.”

  “I must hear more of these matters,” I said.

  “Indeed. You are of the family now.”

  “I hope to meet the King’s mother.”

  Anne’s face hardened for a moment. Then she smiled. “You will be in her favor.”

  “She very kindly wrote warmly to me.”

  “She approved of your marriage to the King, and is delighted that he has a wife who is of her faith. How different it was with my marriage!”

  “I know that she opposed it.”

  “Opposed it! She did everything she could to prevent it. I do not look forward to her arrival. She is so emotional. She could not restrain her feelings if she tried…and of course she does not try. She will always resent me for marrying her favorite son. James is her favorite, you know. Charles understands her too well…and she knows it. And sometimes he does not attempt to hide his knowledge.”

  “There is so much for me to learn about this country and my new family, as well as the language.”

  She looked at me steadily. She said: “Yes, you will find much to learn.”

  And again I had that feeling that she was trying to warn me.

  * * *

  THE HAPPY DAYS CONTINUED. Charles and I rode often together — unfortunately, never quite alone.

  “Thus it is to be a king,” he said ruefully.

  Some little distance from us would ride my Master of Horse, a very earnest young man about my age, who had shown himself always eager to please me. He was Edward Montague, a relative of the Earl of Sandwich.

  Charles told me that Edward Montague had been brought up as a Puritan and that accounted for his serious manner.

  “He is a good fellow,” he said, “and reliable. I daresay he deplores our gaiety at times, but we will forgive him that, for he certainly knows how to handle horses.”

  I had taken quite a liking to Edward Montague.

  I loved those rides with Charles, but it did seem as tho
ugh we were watched continually, and I often saw a glint of something I did not understand in the eyes of the watchers. They appeared to be amused…and I had the feeling that they were waiting for something.

  Charles talked to me a good deal about the past. He made me see the days of his exile. They would have embittered some — not so Charles. He had an irrepressible spirit which gave him the power to laugh at life, however grim it might be, however seemingly hopeless. I could see that he had the power to attract people to him, for he could never be entirely sad, and in his presence people must share in his gaiety. He could usually see something to make him smile…in people…in situations…in life…. It was a most happy trait, and I knew that I was not the only one to feel stimulated and enchanted by his company.

  Through his eyes I saw it all…those terrible days when it became clear that the Royalists would be defeated…when he heard that his father was Cromwell’s prisoner…when he himself was wandering about the country, constantly in danger of being captured. Even then he could talk light-heartedly of it, finding humor in desperate situations.

  “Picture me…hiding in Stonehenge, disguised as a serving man. My friends said they had never seen such a servingman in all the palaces in England. I could as easily have been mistaken for a Druid risen from the dead.”

  And so many times he had come near to being captured.

  “I must have been singularly blessed,” he said. “They could not catch me because, always at hand, there was someone to help.”

  He told me about Jane Lane, the girl who had risked her life for him, as many had before and after.

  “It was September,” he said, his eyes smiling as, a little dreamily, he looked back to the past. “It must have been more than ten years ago, as it was after Worcester. I knew I had to get out of the country or my fate would be that of my father. I came to Bently Hall.

  “Jane Lane was there, visiting her brother before calling on a friend near Bristol. Her cousin, a man named Lascelles, was to travel with her, and she would take a manservant as well. I was to be that manservant, and we planned to go to a house near Sherborne where friends could get me to the coast and shipped to France. They dressed me as the servingman and I took the name of one of the family servants…William Jackson, I remember.”